


How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

by Elara_Moon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, No Smut, Relationship Discussions, Romance, Sex Neutral Asexual Character, The Good Cow era may be over but it is still going in my heart, must a story be good? is it not enough for it to simply be extremely self-indulgent and sappy?, no actual sex it's just talked about a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elara_Moon/pseuds/Elara_Moon
Summary: Jon had never quite known what to think of sex.And then there was Martin. Unfortunately, loving Martin didn't clear things up as much as Jon might have liked.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 30
Kudos: 281





	How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard that projecting on Jon was A Thing, so here I am, many months late without even Starbucks. I don't know what this is, except that I had a Lot of ace feels. I'm not sure this is good, exactly, but I'm proud of it.
> 
> Title is from 'How Sweet It Is' by James Taylor, which I have never actually listened to. I just thought it fit.

Jon had never thought of sex very often. It wasn’t a deliberate avoidance; more simply that it didn’t occur to him. He knew of it, obviously, knew the mechanics of it. His grandmother had once, very stiffly and uncomfortably but painstakingly, given him the Talk -- largely geared towards ensuring he didn’t go and get somebody pregnant as a teenager.

As it turned out, she needn’t have worried.

Jon didn’t exactly have friends in high school, because as a child he had been both annoying and easily bullied. As a result, Jon had honed a natural tendency towards the abrasive, becoming cold or even outright cruel to anyone who didn’t hold a position of authority over him. It kept him from being bullied, but also quite effectively kept anyone from being friends with him.

But that didn’t stop him from overhearing plenty. Jon had always been devastatingly curious (which was, Jon thought in hindsight, probably his grandmother’s biggest difficulty in managing him) and by the time he was in high school, that had turned, in part, to… eavesdropping. It wasn’t that Jon cared, particularly, about the details and intricacies of his classmates’ lives, which were actually quite dull; he could just never seem to tune it out, once he heard somebody talking. Whatever they were saying, he had to know how it ended.

Even if he didn’t actually care. He usually didn’t.

As a result, Jon heard plenty of other teenagers talking about physical attraction. Between that and what little fiction he read, he rather got the idea -- he knew that sex was A Thing. Everybody wanted it, everybody thought about it, or so it seemed.

Jon didn’t really think much of it, much less in regards to himself. He had other, better, more important things to do and think about, and if sometimes he admired the lines of somebody’s trousers or the fall of somebody’s dress, well, that was what sexual attraction was like, right? It was normal. And a bit inconvenient.

In college, he had a few partners of varying genders, but for a while, none that he got close enough with for sex to become inevitable. In hindsight, it was possible some of them had hinted towards it, even tried to initiate it, and Jon had… completely missed it.

And then there was Georgie. Georgie, who Jon really, truly liked, and who, unbelievably, seemed to really, genuinely like him too. Where his previous partners had been obviously putting up with Jon’s more annoying tendencies (hopping from topic to topic too quickly for anyone else to follow, getting too excited about obscure subjects and infodumping about them until he was stopped), Georgie actually seemed to appreciate them. She still called him out on being rude or too harsh, which even at the time he’d acknowledged was probably fair; Jon didn’t care if people thought he was an ass, even preferred it some of the time, but while they were dating, his behavior reflected, at least indirectly, back on Georgie, too. He made an effort to be nicer. (Until they broke up; after that, he stopped.)

His relationship with Georgie was his longest, by far. He felt the closest with her, as well, closer than with any of his other partners -- possibly closer than he’d felt with anyone in his life. Jon was never sure what love was really like, but he thought he loved Georgie.

The first time they had sex, it was, of course, Georgie who initiated it. It was late in the evening, the sun newly fully set, and they were watching a documentary. Georgie likely wasn’t all that interested in it from the beginning, but documentaries were just about the only television Jon would willingly sit through, and she seemed willing to make the concession in order to keep him from getting up and wandering off ten minutes in, as inevitably happened when he tried to watch anything else.

That documentary in particular wasn’t to Georgie’s tastes -- it wasn’t even to Jon’s, except that he could find interest in just about anything -- so it wasn’t surprising that she got bored. It probably shouldn’t have been much of a surprise, either, when Georgie leaned over, put her hand on Jon’s thigh, and kissed him, but it was. They’d kissed before, and Jon liked it well enough, so he went along with it despite the pang of annoyance about being distracted from the documentary. The kissing led to other things, and Jon… wasn’t sure how to react. What to do. He wanted to watch the rest of the documentary, but Georgie obviously had other plans, and Jon _liked_ Georgie, really liked her, so he should want it too.

So he got up and let her lead him to the bedroom, abandoning the still-playing documentary.

The actual sex was -- fine. Enjoyable enough, Jon supposed. Parts of it were absolutely mortifying, and overall it was a little messy and gross, but Georgie was warm and kind enough that Jon felt comfortable with her, and she obviously enjoyed it, and it was physically pleasurable. He just… couldn’t stop thinking about the parts of the documentary that he was missing. Obviously, he knew better than to ever tell Georgie about _that_ ; it was insulting. She deserved better.

After that, since they’d taken that step and already done it before, Jon expected, with the tiniest hint of dread, that Georgie would want to have sex more often. Regularly. As couples generally did, he knew.

She didn’t, though. It didn’t come up again, until Jon all but forgot to worry about it. Maybe Georgie had noticed Jon’s discomfort and was holding off for him -- in which case, Jon couldn’t help but be grateful, even as the idea that Georgie was avoiding something she wanted for the sake of Jon’s feelings sent a spike of anxious guilt through him.

Or, possibly, Georgie expected _Jon_ to initiate it, and if so, she was doomed to be disappointed.

But in the end, it wasn’t sex (or the lack thereof) that caused them to break up.

After Georgie, sex was not relevant to Jon’s life at all. He essentially never thought about it again, with no regret at all.

Until Martin.

Not that Jon suddenly began to understand sexual attraction once he met Martin, or even once he… started to care about him. He still didn’t. Didn’t understand, didn’t particularly care to.

But _Martin_ cared about -- all that. Martin probably wanted to have sex. Now that they were properly together, after four years of at least one of them pining after the other. Or more. Jon wasn’t actually sure how long Martin had had a crush on him, if it had been since before the Archives, and he was emphatically _not_ Knowing it. He was trying not to Know anything, of course, but something like that, about Martin -- it just felt especially unfair, especially wrong. And it didn’t matter anymore, anyway. What mattered was that they were together; finally, miraculously, after everything, they were together.

Jon almost couldn’t believe it. He _definitely_ couldn’t believe that they would get to have even a sliver of happiness, tucked away in Daisy’s safehouse in the midst of everything awful that was going on. But he was happy, no matter how fleeting, and he thought Martin was too.

But then there was the sex dilemma. Hardly the highest thing on Jon’s priority list, for obvious reasons, but yet the biggest one that was an immediate issue, that had made its way into the seemingly safe bubble of their cottage. The others hung around outside, massive and looming but distant.

It wasn’t like Jon immediately thought about sex. There was no connection in his mind between dating and sex, so it took a while for it to… become relevant.

The thing about hiding out in the highlands of Scotland was that it was actually exceedingly boring. Neither Jon nor Martin had brought anything but bare necessities, and Daisy’s cottage was similarly utilitarian, so there was little to do for entertainment. Once they finished the initial, necessary cleaning of the cottage, their days consisted of cooking and exploring the nearby areas, looking at cows. Neither of those things could make up an entire day’s activities.

The first time Jon and Martin had kissed was immediately after they got out of the Lonely, in the very short period of time they had before they had to flee London. Jon hadn’t been able to restrain himself, and Martin had been plenty receptive. After that, they just… kept doing it. Once they were safe (as safe as could be) in Daisy’s cottage, and bored, it got a bit out of hand. The fact that they both enjoyed kissing, combined with their shared, agonizing, abundance of free time, very quickly turned simple, chaste kissing into long makeout sessions.

Under ordinary circumstances, Jon likely wouldn’t have been receptive to the idea. Not when there were _so_ _many_ other things to be doing. As it was, with close to nothing else to do, he let himself enjoy the closeness and affection of it.

Jon had never particularly cared for long kisses. It seemed to become messier and less appealing the longer a kiss went, and he found it difficult to breathe, something that bothered him more than ever since the Buried. Martin didn’t seem to mind that Jon kept turning away, breaking off kisses to catch his breath, just waited until he turned back again. And, although these sessions often seemed to end up with Jon on his back on the ragged sofa with Martin over him, Martin was very careful to keep most of his weight off of Jon, making the feel of him pressing down on top of Jon comforting, rather than suffocating.

Such a position made it very difficult to avoid noticing when Martin had certain physical reactions. The first time, Jon almost didn’t understand what had happened; there was the press of something hard against his hip, unusual when most of Martin was soft. While Jon was still puzzling it out, Martin yelped against his mouth and flung himself backwards, off of Jon and almost off the sofa entirely.

“Sorry! Oh god, sorry, I didn’t -- I just -- I’m, er, tea!” Martin babbled, rapidfire, and bustled off into the kitchen.

Jon pushed himself up on one arm and twisted to watch over the armrest of the sofa as Martin disappeared through the open doorway. He wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened.

Some things were obvious enough, once Jon realized exactly what he’d felt pressing against his hip. Clearly, Martin had become… aroused, and was embarrassed by -- even ashamed of -- it. But why? Admittedly, Jon found the prospect of such a physical reaction to something as simple as kissing kind of baffling, but he felt that he was probably the odd one in this situation, not Martin. It certainly didn’t explain why Martin would react so extremely.

...Jon should probably go after him. He should go see if Martin was okay, ask him why he’d panicked (and hopefully manage to sound caring and gentle instead of accusatory). It was the kind of thing that they most likely needed to discuss.

But he didn’t want to.

Martin probably didn’t want to talk about it either, given the way he’d fled the room like he had wolves snapping at his heels.

Jon didn’t go after him. Later, Martin returned -- with the promised tea -- and neither of them mentioned it.

Only, it happened again.

Not immediately. They didn’t go back to making out that day, both of them likely far too aware of the matter they weren’t discussing. The only kisses they shared the next day were chaste and sweet. And for a while after that, Martin was very careful to keep any evidence of his arousal away from Jon.

But it was probably uncomfortable to maintain that position without letting any of his weight rest on Jon, and Martin couldn’t manage it all the time. So it happened again.

Like before, Martin sprung up, immediately ceasing all contact with Jon.

“Sorry!”

This time, however, Jon knew what was going on, and already knew to expect Martin to react this way. He reached out and caught Martin’s arm, keeping him from getting any further away, and Martin froze, perched awkwardly in a kneel over Jon’s legs.

“J-Jon?” Martin said, voice squeaking adorably on the word. His cheeks were red -- with arousal? Embarrassment? Maybe both.

“Martin. I, uh…” Jon hesitated, cleared his throat. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He had no idea what to say. He could feel himself blushing too, now. Fortunately it wasn’t obvious on him. “You don’t have to -- to leave.”

Martin let out another squeak, this one wordless. “No, no, I -- I think -- I should -- it’s best if I just go. Make some tea.”

“You don’t have to,” Jon said again, frustrated, and it came out harsher than he’d intended. He sighed. “No, I mean -- you can go. If you want. I just, I’d -- well, you could… stay? We should talk about… this.”

He let go of Martin’s arm and drew his legs carefully out from under Martin, settling them awkwardly underneath himself.

“Talk -- talk? About _this_?” Martin looked almost mortified. “No! No, that’s okay, we don’t need to talk about it. I didn’t really mean for you to know about, um, _this_ , at all, actually, I’m kind of trying not to--”

Martin fell silent. Shifting anxiously, he folded his legs under him to sit cross-legged, leaning against the armrest opposite Jon, clear on the other side of the sofa.

Jon was careful to keep all hints of compulsion out of his voice when he prompted, “Trying not to what?”

“Well, um, pressure you, I guess? Just, I overheard Melanie and Basira talking a while back, and Melanie said that _Georgie_ said that -- um, you just, don’t. Don’t do any of that stuff?”

Jon contemplated the fact that Georgie had told his coworkers about his sex life. Or at least one of them, who then told the others.

That wasn’t the point.

“Right,” Jon said awkwardly. “I suppose I -- don’t, usually, but I, I could. If that -- If you wanted to.”

He found he wasn’t as reluctant as he might have been. Wasn’t particularly reluctant at all, except for the fact that it _could_ go poorly. As it was, with things as they were, he thought he could probably focus. He could keep his attention on Martin, where it belonged, without getting distracted every other second by the thought of all the things he wasn’t doing.

Martin, however, looked horrified. “Wh -- no! I don’t -- If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to,” he said.

“But you do want it, don’t you? If you want to, I… wouldn’t mind,” Jon said. Martin didn’t look convinced. “I’m not averse to it.”

“That’s not exactly enthusiastic consent, Jon,” Martin said unhappily. Jon’s heart twinged; he hadn’t meant to upset him. “I mean, you’re right, I -- I do _like_ sex, and I would like to, um, have sex with you, but it’s not a big deal! I wouldn’t -- I won’t be upset at not doing that?”

“I doubt I will ever be able to give you ‘enthusiastic’ consent. That doesn’t mean I can’t consent at all. Martin, I… I want to make you happy,” Jon said, and it came out far softer and more earnest than he’d intended. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and moved on quickly, “I do want to -- to have sex, if that would… make you happy.”

Martin looked touched, and his cheeks were flaming with the strength of his blush, but he shook his head. “I don’t -- no, I mean, I appreciate that, Jon. I… It really means a lot to me. But I don’t want to -- I don’t want _you_ to have sex with me just for me.”

“It wouldn’t necessarily be just for you. I, ah, well, sex is -- it’s not totally abhorrent,” Jon said. He watched Martin’s nose crinkle and hurried to correct, “It’s fine -- I mean, it can be enjoyable sometimes. I think I’d… enjoy it. If it was with you.”

It wasn’t _bad_ with Georgie either, and the shiver of unease at the memory of it was totally unreasonable and unfair to her.

“Oh, god,” Martin said, putting his hands over his face. “How -- how can you just _say_ these things?” His voice came out strangled.

“Martin? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just -- god, you’re amazing,” Martin said, letting one hand drop from his face in favor of having it sneak furtively across the distance between them, as though Jon could possibly miss it.

Jon put his own hand out to meet it, curling his fingers around Martin’s hand as Martin’s curled around his. He couldn’t really feel Martin’s grip, the scar tissue left by Jude Perry insensitive, but it made him feel warm nonetheless. Or maybe that was because of Martin’s words.

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand gently and sighed. “Jon, I -- I can’t say I’m not tempted,” he said, and something twisted in Jon’s gut. Excitement? Anxiety? Hard to tell. “But I, um. Okay, I’m not sure how to put this into words, but just, just listen, okay?”

Jon nodded, eyes fixed on Martin’s face -- though not quite making eye contact. Jon was, he liked to think, a pretty good listener. For some reason, this made Martin smile, looking agonizingly affectionate.

“The first part is that I -- I love you, Jon.”

Jon felt his face heat, and his grip on Martin’s hand tightened slightly, reflexively. It wasn’t the first time Martin had said that (present tense, even), but it still held the same impact.

“I love _you_ ,” Martin said again. “Not -- not the idea of sex with you, or whatever. The sex doesn’t even matter at all. I mean, sure. I’d enjoy having sex with you. But I also enjoy kissing you, and cuddling with you, and attempting to cook with you, and going on walks and looking at cows with you. I enjoy spending time with you, no matter what it is we’re doing. The important part is _you_ , not the activity.”

Now _Jon_ was the one who was going to have to hide his face. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away no matter how hot his cheeks burned, too busy trying to memorize every inch of Martin’s adoring, earnest expression.

“I just really, really like you. If we never have sex, then -- then that’s fine. Honestly! It doesn’t bother me at all. I know -- I know you said that you want to, if it’ll make me happy, but. I’d be happy if we did, but I’m just as happy if we don’t, you know? Just having you here with me like this… that makes me incredibly, impossibly happy.”

If Jon’s face got any hotter, he’d suspect the Desolation’s involvement. There was a lump in his throat, now, and if he spoke, he wasn’t sure that he could have pulled off sounding anything resembling normal. He wanted Martin to stop. He wanted Martin to keep going forever.

“I care about you far more than I could ever care about -- about _sex_ ,” Martin said sincerely. “And I care about your feelings, too? Um. And I can -- I know my own feelings, and I know that not, y’know, having sex, that’s not going to bother me. At all. But I can’t tell your feelings, so I can’t tell if, um, if having sex would, maybe, upset you…? And maybe it wouldn’t! But, um. It sounds like it might. So I think I’d rather just not do that, right now?”

Martin went quiet, and there was a moment of silence as Jon tried to compose himself.

He wasn’t exactly relieved at Martin’s decision, but. He certainly didn’t feel particularly disappointed, either.

“Un -- unless I’ve… misunderstood?” Martin said nervously before Jon could speak.

Jon shook his head and squeezed Martin’s hand reassuringly. “No. No, I, uh, I think you’ve… understood it perfectly,” he said quietly. “...Thank you, Martin. I -- you know I -- it’s the same for me? Well, maybe not exactly the same, but I -- I feel that way about you too. I _love_ you. Too.”

Martin’s anxious expression melted into something very soft. “Yeah,” he said. Then, after a beat, “So, do you want to go see if we can make lasagne for dinner? I think I’ve figured out what went wrong last time!”

Jon let out a soft huff of laughter.

“Yes,” he said. “I think I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that this might not necessarily make sense, but in my defense, this Jon is also very confused about his own sexuality. I just really wanted to talk about Jon 'No Time for Eating or Sleeping' Sims being sex neutral, technically, but also not particularly in favor of sex for other reasons -- such as having better things to do with his time. And being pulled away from something you were focused on can be distressing.
> 
> Although I didn't actually use asexuality as a term in the story, I do feel like Jon might be aware of it? Given that in MAG 74, he says (about Leitner, though obviously he doesn't know that) that 'They appear to be a man, or at least male-presenting.' So I do think he's probably pretty aware of such things. It just felt weird to mention it directly, and also regardless of actual knowledge on the subject, internalized acephobia can be really hard to overcome. Martin, however, is not here for that. Jon's internalized acephobia vs. Martin's difficulty letting people do things for him or just to make him happy, go!
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please let me know with a kudos or a comment!


End file.
